


No Starry Night

by menel



Series: When the Day is Short [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Episode Tag, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the office on the verge of an implosion and Raylan's life an even bigger mess than usual, he and Tim reach an unlikely understanding. </p><p>Blanket spoilers for Season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Starry Night

**Author's Note:**

> Standalone coda (for now) to 5x07 Raw Deal because I’m suffering from severe Tim withdrawal. Blanket spoilers for Season 5.

Wendy Crowe’s lipstick stains the rim of her glass as she finishes her bourbon and the bartender refills both of their glasses. Raylan can tell that she’s trying. She’s not even hiding how much she’s trying, secure in her own feminine wiles and Raylan’s receptivity to her charms. They’ve both done their research and when Raylan laughs at her comment about being attracted to his “blatant abuse of government resources,” he notices how her smile slices a little sharper. 

_Maybe in another lifetime_ , Raylan thinks. He knows that his judgment when it comes to women is far from perfect, that he keeps making the same damn mistakes and only recognizing the pattern _after_ the damage has been done. Women are his Achilles heel (men are only a fraction better) but he has no regrets. Life’s too short for that. Besides, a quick glance at his watch informs him that he’s late. He’s been humoring Wendy, but it’s time to drop the charade. He lays his cards on the table – an offer for her to help him get Daryl, one that Wendy will clearly not accept – that is, until he casually throws in the very real possibility of Dilly’s murder. He has no proof of this, of course, but he can feel the certainty in his bones. The insinuation does its job. He sees the flash of shock in Wendy’s eyes, and knows that it’s his cue to leave. 

It is ungentlemanly of him to leave Wendy with the tab (Raylan has strict standards about that), but neither is it his doing that TC Fleming messed with his credit cards. It’s an unfortunate scenario, one that makes his refusal of Wendy’s advances akin to slamming the door in her face. He can sense her confusion and puzzlement as he stands up and leaves the bar, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He got his message across clearly enough _and_ he’s late.

* * * * *

Tim is peeved by the time he arrives. Raylan can immediately tell by the set of the other man’s jaw and the fine line of tension that outlines his body, even as he appears relaxed, stretched out on the motel’s bed aimlessly channel surfing. Tim has an ever-present alertness about him that Raylan attributes to military training, but the tension he observes now doesn’t stem from that. Raylan knows the difference.

They use a different nondescript motel at the outskirts of Lexington for each of these meetings. Trysts, Raylan supposes, would be a more accurate description but that word has the uncomfortable connotation of ‘romance’ that doesn’t suit them at all. Tim Gutterson does not have ‘trysts.’ (Raylan could ‘tryst’ but it would have to be with the appropriate person, in an appropriate context. In a previous life, that person would have been Winona.) He doesn’t quite think of Tim as a fuck buddy either, even though there is plenty of sex involved whenever they hook up. 

Like tonight, for instance. Judging by Tim’s mood, Raylan’s prepared to take whatever Tim has planned, so he’s surprised when Tim eventually gets him on the bed after stripping both of them rather viciously and then maneuvers himself underneath Raylan. It’s not their normal position, no matter who’s topping (and honestly, Raylan thought he might be fucked raw that night given whatever is bothering Tim). But Tim is surprisingly gentle after prepping both of them, and Raylan finds the position (he can look straight into Tim’s blue eyes) unfamiliarly intimate. Still, he doesn’t hesitate and the first breach of Tim’s body remains that intoxicating combination of heat and tightness. There is always that reflexive tensing at the intrusion before Tim is able to relax and consciously welcome him. Raylan keeps the pace slow in the beginning, his hands braced against Tim’s thighs as he rocks into him. Tim strokes his cock to Raylan’s languorous rhythm and Raylan takes a moment to appreciate the unguarded pleasure that plays across Tim’s face, his lips half-parted and eyes half-focused. When Tim finally focuses on him and their eyes meet, Raylan is surprised once again by the honesty he sees there, so surprised that he doesn’t hesitate when Tim motions with his free hand for Raylan to move closer. Raylan obliges, uncertain of what Tim has in mind until he feels that free hand grab the back of his neck when he’s near enough and pull him down for a kiss. Raylan has to support himself on the bed, but Tim only pulls him closer until the other man is supporting most of his weight. 

The kiss is different. Everything about the night has been different, but Raylan most clearly feels it in the kiss. It too is slow, almost meditative, as far away as possible from the quick suck and fuck of their early encounters. Those meetings smacked of desperation, were tinged with resignation, and underpinned by a kind of revulsion as though coming together for comfort or release were demeaning in a way. Raylan doesn’t know how it’s come to this ( _when_ it had reached this point) but he’s still buried to the hilt inside of Tim and when he resumes his movement, all those thoughts are brushed aside. Raylan stays close as he picks up the pace and Tim adjusts, canting his hips so that he meets Raylan’s downward thrusts. Their breaths mingle when they come, Tim’s mouth open in a silent scream, his fingers digging painfully into Raylan’s hip and he comes between their bodies. Raylan can’t help but seize the opportunity to kiss him again, and so he does. 

Afterwards, Raylan lingers for much longer than usual, breathing in Tim’s scent and the musk of their sex. Tim doesn’t push him away, but Raylan eventually pulls away on his own, settling on the bed so that he and Tim are lying down side-by-side, but not quite touching. The air blows over their cooling bodies and it takes Raylan a moment before he pulls off the condom, ties it and then tosses it into the waste basket near the bed. He knows he should get up. They never spend the night in these motels, but his limbs feel heavy and after throwing the condom away, he finds himself settling back on the bed. Tim hasn’t budged either and a silence falls between them. It’s Tim who eventually speaks, just as Raylan is about to doze off. 

“Where’d you come from?” 

Raylan opens his eyes, the question taking a moment to register. 

“I know punctuality ain’t your strong suit,” Tim is saying. “But an hour is pretty bad even for you.” 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Raylan apologizes automatically, but he doesn’t go as far as saying that he should’ve called. They’re not the type to call. Calling seems . . . clingy. _Could be just good manners_ , a voice reminds him and Raylan quickly shushes it. “Wendy Crowe contacted me,” is what he says instead. 

“Yeah?” 

Raylan can tell that Tim’s interest has been piqued. Tim has a good idea of how he feels about the Crowe clan. 

“What’d she want?” 

“To have a drink. Looks like she was after more than that too,” Raylan admits. “But I’m not sure what she thought she’d get out of seducing me.” 

“Aside from the obvious,” Tim says, leveling Raylan with an exasperated look. “She wants leverage,” he continues, matter-of-factly. “Something she can use against you to help her brothers. I suppose you made her a counter offer?” 

“The usual,” Raylan replies with a shrug. “Don’t expect her to accept, but I think I ruffled enough feathers that she and Daryl will be having words later this evening.” 

“You mean right about now?” Tim ventures, staring back up at the dirty ceiling. 

Raylan finally turns his head and looks at Tim. He knows that Tim can feel the look, even if the other man doesn’t acknowledge the action. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Raylan asks suddenly. 

It’s a testament to Raylan’s observational skills that Tim doesn’t answer. Tim’s silence is a confirmation that something is bothering him. As the silence stretches out between them, Raylan can also detect the tension returning to Tim’s body. So much for the languor of post-coital bliss. 

The silence lasts for so long that Raylan is tempted to get out of bed and leave. Avoidance isn’t admirable, but if Tim doesn’t want to talk then Raylan sure as hell isn’t going to force the issue. He’s about to do just that when Tim’s words stop him again. 

“What the hell is going on between you and Art? Walk-ins and all that other shit. You’ve been in the doghouse before, but nothing like this.” 

Of all the things that Tim could’ve said, _that_ had not been on Raylan’s list. Which was foolish, because Tim is precisely the sort of person to be so blunt. It’s one of the traits that Raylan likes best about the other man. After all, it had been Tim who had called out both Raylan and Art in the conference room the morning after Art’s fist had said ‘hello’ to Raylan’s face. Since then both Tim and Rachel had been acting as intermediaries between Raylan and Art and the tension in the office had been palpable. Rachel had gone so far as to say that the office might be on the verge of imploding because of the two of them. 

Raylan mentally sighs when he remembers his reaction to Rachel’s similar inquiry a few nights ago. She had been genuinely concerned and he’d behaved like a total dick. Not his best moment. Since then, Rachel had been extra firm but gentle with him, a kind of maternal instinct that knew how to handle and diffuse the situation. Raylan is getting a strong sense of déjà vu with Tim, except that Tim is no Rachel and their relationship is far more complicated. 

“I’ve asked Art to transfer me,” Raylan says at last. “I’ve taken a couple of days off. Am gonna go down and visit Winona and by the time I get back, the transfer should’ve sorted itself out.” 

Tim is nodding, but it’s more to himself than in response to Raylan’s answer. “Back to Miami then? So you can be closer to Winona and your daughter?” 

Raylan hesitates. That’s not strictly true. “Not necessarily,” he admits. “I told Art anywhere would do.” 

Tim looks at him suddenly and there’s no mistaking the accusation there. Raylan feels reprimanded without a word being said. Not that Tim will ever call him out on being a shitty dad. Raylan’s daddy issues have been on display from the moment he arrived in Lexington, but he also knows that Tim’s had a rough time of it as well. 

The tension has been replaced with irritation when Tim looks away from him again. The ceiling is getting a lot of mileage during this particular discussion. 

“That tells me what you’re going to do,” Tim says after a moment. “The _outcome_ of whatever is going on with you and Art. You haven’t said what started it in the first place.” 

Raylan’s mood is quickly turning sour. He doesn’t owe Tim this, he thinks. He doesn’t owe Tim anything. Does he? 

“You don’t want to know,” he says flatly. 

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t ask,” Tim counters. 

Raylan’s agitation is bubbling to the surface and he sits up. The look Tim throws him is challenging, daring him to leave now in the middle of the conversation. 

Raylan doesn’t run away from dares. 

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair before he leans back against the headboard. “You heard the rumor going round the office?” 

“Which one?” 

“The one about Theo Tonin and Nicky Augustine?” 

“You mean about the federal agent that engineered Nicky Augustine’s demise? It’s more than a rumor. Picker actually named Barkley as the agent. Makes sense. Barkley was on Tonin’s payroll. Remember how hard he went after you? It’s no surprise that he’s gone to ground. We’ll find him eventually.” 

It’s Raylan’s turn to remain silent. He knows he could leave it at that. That’s what everyone else thinks anyway. Everyone who isn’t named Art Mullen. But Tim is quick and Raylan’s silence is also his admission. There’s the flash of recognition in Tim’s eyes and although Raylan can’t predict Tim’s response after that, the sharp bark of laughter the other man lets out is not what he expected. 

“Fuck, Raylan,” Tim says, shaking his head. “That is just like you. Art’s your friend and your boss. He’s retiring in eight months on one of the biggest arrests in the history of the federal service and you dump this shit on him? He should fucking report you! But he’s not going to, because he’s your _friend_ and he understands that your family’s life was in danger. So he’s going to dump you in the doghouse and keep you there probably until he retires. And you know what? You _deserve_ every bit of the shit that he’s giving you ‘cos the alternative?” 

Tim stops abruptly and Raylan thinks the other man has lost steam. 

“I never actually told him that’s what happened,” Raylan comments. 

“But you didn’t deny it either,” Tim points out. “Just like you’re not denying it now.” 

Raylan knows he’s been backed into a corner but he stands his ground. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Tim says in exasperation. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you.” 

“Well, that makes two of us.” 

Raylan’s attempt at levity falls flat at the fierce glare Tim fires his way. 

“You wanna come with me?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“Even if you were serious, we’re half the godamn office.” 

“Don’t be silly. There’s Rachel and Nelson.” 

“That’s my point. We’re _half_ the godamn office.” 

“Don’t forget charming Chris.” 

Tim is so pissed that the mention of their favorite tech guy doesn’t even get a hint of a smile out of him. Raylan sighs and slides down the bed so that he’s laying beside Tim again, his head propped up on one hand as he gazes down at the other man. He doesn’t think that touching Tim at this moment is advisable. 

“Look,” Raylan begins. “I don’t know what’s happening here either,” he says, gesturing between them. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your career in _Kentucky_?” 

“Stop exaggerating,” Tim replies. “No,” he finally answers at Raylan’s piercing look. “But I’m not just gonna ditch Art either. It’s called ‘loyalty’ and I know _you_ know what that means. What if Art doesn’t transfer you?” 

“Then I’ll quit.” 

This gets another bark of laughter out of Tim, but it isn’t mean-spirited. 

“Like hell you will,” Tim says when he stops laughing. “That job is your life. You’d be even more lost without it. You’re not gonna quit.” 

It’s Tim who finally turns towards him, shifting closer so that their legs are tangled as he puts a hand on Raylan’s waist. “Eight months isn’t that long,” he says. “Hell, there’s a good chance you’re gonna be Chief when Art retires even with all the shit between you two.” 

“Are you saying this is my penance before my heavenly reward?” 

“Maybe. Eight months isn’t that long,” Tim repeats. “Stick it out.” 

“Are we talking about the job or –” 

“Both,” Tim cuts him off. He sighs, resting his forehead against Raylan’s chest. The next time he speaks, his voice is slightly muffled. “I’ve had it with these motels. The next time we do this, it’s gonna be at my place. I’m too damn tired to change and go home. I just wanna sleep.” 

Raylan’s free hand has dropped to Tim’s back. “Why don’t we just stay here tonight?” he suggests, knowing full well that they’ve never spent the night together. “Room’s paid for anyway.” 

“Why? ‘Cos things will look different in the morning?” 

“They might.” 

There’s a beat and Raylan’s certain that Tim is going to call him out on his perceived bullshit. 

“Fine. But you have to turn off the light.” 

“I’ll do that.” 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

>  _Justified_ belongs to FX, Graham Yost and Elmore Leonard. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
